


and if i get burned (at least we were electrified)

by midzyzen



Series: the last great fire nation dynasty [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, ITZY (Band)
Genre: Avatar the Last Airbender AU, Coming of Age, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Mai (Avatar)-Centric, Non-Chronological, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sexuality Crisis, Shin Ryujin-Centric, azula!yeji, firenation typical internalised homophobia??? if that's a thing, girls doing each others makeup, mai!ryujin, ty lee!jisu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26550811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midzyzen/pseuds/midzyzen
Summary: “I’m surprised Yeji didn’t catch on, really. But I suppose she doesn’t see things our way.”“Our way?” Ryujin echoes. “What’s our way?”Jisu smiles.*or: when yeji asks ryujin to join her team to pursue the avatar, she agrees - but for a whole different reason. to feel alive again, that is.
Relationships: Choi Jisu | Lia/Shin Ryujin
Series: the last great fire nation dynasty [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930810
Comments: 16
Kudos: 55





	and if i get burned (at least we were electrified)

**Author's Note:**

> so...well...i was watching atla as one does and at one point ty lee hugs mai and i've had a bit of an epiphany. this follows the plot of the show closely starting from azula/yeji's coming to omashu until the boiling rock i suppose, then the ending is a bit different than it was for mai and ty lee originally. it also has flashbacks inspired by avatar lore, but with personal twists on it ig. zuko and mai are besties here and heh...im called midzyzen for a reason just saying
> 
> characters aged up and the casting is as follows:  
> ryujin - mai (19)  
> lia - ty lee (19)  
> yeji - azula (19)  
> donghyuck (help) - zuko (19) (they're twins here)
> 
> chaeryeong is katara, yuna is the avatar, jeno from nct is sokka, but they're maybe mentioned once it's just a headcanon. mark from nct (minhyung) doesn't have a counterpart in the series but more about him in the sequel. also kataang isnt a thing here im not crazy
> 
> speaking of the sequel, it's gonna focus on gay little zuko (donghyuck) so if you're maybe interested it's almost done and should come soon!!
> 
> last but not least, the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1myNavCS6fRovpw4Q6Pre0?si=u_rm7NE3TDa8tg7-bsRv_g) thank you to taylor swift btw she's mentioned by name in almost every fic i published but this one so i hope the copious amounts of her music on the playlist is name drop enough. the title is also from dress by taylor swift and the funny series name (its very funny) is of course a ref to the last great american dynasty.

Ryujin’s heard rumours of Yeji travelling to the Earth Kingdom, they’ve been circling for a while now, but her presence in Omashu still comes as a shock. She still carries herself tall and gracefully firm, nothing has changed since Ryujin has seen her a few months back, somewhere over a year ago. The wild glint in her eye has since grown stronger, which doesn’t come as a shock to Ryujin. Yeji, for someone so cunning, is extremely predictable.

One can’t learn the royal kind of grace with which Yeji steps out of her palanquin. Her entrance is grand, fit for the Princess of the Fire Nation. Heir to the throne, Ryujin adds silently, watching her father, the governor, bow down to Yeji. He welcomes her to Omashu as such, humble and respectful. Ryujin has known her for too long to bother with formalities; when their eyes cross, she just smiles. 

“It’s been a while,” Ryujin says. Yeji is taller than her now, her dark hair tied up in the same fashion she’s had it since they were children. The smile she offers Ryujin is the one she’s always known, too, sharp like a blade, double in meaning. 

“It has,” Yeji replies and it’s then Ryujin realises just how much she’s missed her. They exchange a quick hug and Ryujin is reminded of the days they spent together at the royal palace back in the capital. It was when life wasn’t as insipid as it is in Omashu. “How have you been, Ryujin?”

“Bored,” she sighs. “Are all Earth Kingdom cities as bleak as this one or is my luck just rotten?”

“Former Earth Kingdom,” Yeji stresses. “I find they’re all unimpressive once you’ve conquered them. This one’s no different.”

“What brings you here, then?” Ryujin asks because Yeji doesn’t just pay her friends visits without a hidden reason. 

“You must have heard about my brother and uncle,” Yeji explains. She did; Donghyuck’s stunt at the North Pole was dubbed an unforgivable betrayal of the Fire Nation. The dishonoured prince couldn’t have fallen any lower and dragged his uncle, the once famed general Iroh, down with him. “Father sent me to hunt them down.”

This would explain Yeji’s presence in the Earth Kingdom, but not Omashu. “I haven’t heard of them in the area. I’ll tell father to alert the guards in case they are stupid enough to come here.” 

“It’s not why I came. I need your help,” Yeji reveals. There it is. “I can’t travel with my troops, it’s too conspicuous. And I can’t take down Donghyuck and Uncle alone, either. Think of it as a mission — wouldn’t you take up any offer of getting out of here?”

Yeji is, unsurprisingly, correct — Ryujin’s already one foot out the gates of the city. Still, she doesn’t want to give away just how eager she is to accept Yeji’s proposition. “I’m hurt, Yeji. Here I was, thinking you’ve come to visit a friend.”

“Two birds, one stone, isn’t it?” Yeji shrugs. “A reunion was long overdue, you’re right. I think we all agree on that.”

“We all?” Ryujin questions. 

Something flashes in Yeji’s eyes. She’s found it, Ryujin’s weak point — Ryujin doesn’t know if Yeji is aware just how weak. “Oh, did I forget to mention? Jisu agreed to come as well, it would be just like the RFA days.”

“Is she here?” Ryujin asks. 

“Yes, she’s in one of the guest rooms,” Yeji smiles. “We should see her if you want. Maybe she can convince you to come with us, she said she missed you a lot.”

And just like that, she puts Ryujin’s world into motion. It’s been awfully stagnant for a while. 

“I won’t need any convincing,” she tells the princess. “I’d be honoured to help, Yeji.”

Yeji is rightfully smug — she knows she won. “Splendid.”

*

The Royal Fire Academy for Girls is as obnoxious as it is boring, Ryujin realises on the way to her chamber. The senior from the welcome committee is showing her around the hallways, and Ryujin can tell she’s trying to make it as interesting as possible. If she knew any better, she’d feel sorry for the older girl, but it’s a waste of effort. She just nods absentmindedly, hoping the dormitory wasn’t too far away.

“You’ll be rooming with two other girls,” Sana, that’s the senior’s name, explains to her. Ryujin scowls — she doesn’t understand why her parents couldn’t let her continue her studies at home where she didn’t have to share a bedroom with anyone else. She doesn’t see a purpose to the cultivation of such brute customs; her parents told her time and time again that she needs connections, friends. 

Ryujin begs to differ. Only silently, though. “Who are they?”

“Jisu comes from the Choi family,” Ryujin has heard of them, a noble clan whose domain extended over the North of the Fire Nation. “And Yeji — she’s the princess. You’re lucky.”

That spikes up Ryujin’s interest. “The actual royalty?” 

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Sana shrugs. Ryujin really is lucky — if she’s rooming with Fire Nation royal family, there are benefits to be expected. “You’ll be living on the second floor, the west wing. Your luggage will be waiting for you inside.”

Sana leaves her at the door, wishing her a pleasant experience in the RFA to which Ryujin scoffs silently. She pushes the heavy brass handle and steps in. The room is painted deep red with gold and copper ornaments, an elegant homage to the Nation. There are three wooden desks set opposite to three canopy beds similar to the one Ryujin had back at home. On the one next to the window, a girl is sat; her hair is tied up tightly — not a strand out of place — and her sharp, fox-like eyes are scanning the scrolls she is reading.

When makes notice of Ryujin’s entrance, she lifts her head, “Ryujin, right?”

“Yes,” Ryujin nods, sitting down on the bed beside the wall where her things were dropped off by the staff. “And you?”

“Yeji, daughter of Ozai." Ryujin can tell how proud she is of the fact, the sentiment drips from each punctuated word. She should have known, with the way Yeji carries herself. She stands tall and Ryujin’s first instinct is to bow — her parents wouldn’t expect anything less. Her mother is going to be overjoyed when Ryujin tells her about the acquaintance.

“It’s an honour, Your Highness,” she says, but Yeji shakes her head.

“Don’t call me that,” she commands. “Let’s be friends. Jisu just calls me Yeji.”

Friends don’t give each other orders, Ryujin thinks, but she knows her place. “Okay, Yeji.” Yeji looks satisfied enough to sit next to her. “Jisu, that’s the other girl, right?”

“Yes, we’ve known each other for a while now,” the way she says it makes Ryujin feel like an intruder. “We go way back?”

“Is she coming any time soon?” Ryujin notices the girl’s trunks are placed next to her bed, but the girl is nowhere in sight.

“Oh, she’s here, she’s in the window,” taking in Ryujin’s bewildered expression, Yeji laughs. She points to the window, where Ryujin can discern two feet hooked over the windowsill. “She’s weird like that. Jisu! The girl’s here.”

“What girl?” A voice, higher than Yeji’s, comes from the outside.

“Our roommate,” Yeji calls out.

Ryujin watches as Jisu pulls herself up gracefully and falls into their room without much of a hustle. She lands on her tiptoes without as much as a thud. Her hair, tied into a high braid, bounces at the impact.

“We have a roommate?” Jisu asks, with her eyes wide and her smile wider. It’s almost contagious, but Ryujin doesn’t smile often and now is no different.

“You thought the third bed was for decoration?” Yeji sneers and Ryujin is taken aback at how inadequate it makes _her_ feel, despite not being the target. Jisu’s smile doesn’t waver, though, she seems used to it.

“Didn’t notice,” Jisu turns to Ryujin with a wave and there’s a skip to her walk when she approaches them. Instead of settling for anything formal like a bow or even handshake, she pulls Ryujin in a hug. “I’m Jisu, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Ryujin returns it awkwardly, not used to such upfront affection. “Ryujin.”

“No, I’m Jisu,” says Jisu.

“I mean—I’m Ryujin,” she explains. “As in, I was trying to introduce myself—”

“Oh, I know. It’s just funny when I pretend I’m stupid, it flusters people,” Jisu sprawls herself on her bed. “Where are you from, Ryujin?”

“I lived in the west of Shuhon,” she replies. “What was all… _this_ about?”

“She’s asking about the window thing,” Yeji supplies when all Ryujin is met with is a clueless expression.

“Oh, that — I do acrobatics,” Jisu explains. “The gym is closed, and I have to practice somehow, so…”

“So, you swing out of windows?” Ryujin finishes.

“Pretty much,” she’s got pretty lips, Jisu, heart-shaped and pink.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Ryujin asks, more out of curiosity than worry. She’s intriguing, Jisu, Ryujin can’t seem to figure her out.

“I keep telling her that,” Yeji sighs.

“Like bending fire isn’t,” Jisu dismisses Yeji’s patronising comment. “Do you bend?”

When Ryujin shakes her head, Yeji asks. “Do you fight, then?”

“You could say that, I—” it’s embarrassing to reveal, and Ryujin regrets it as soon as she speaks “—I throw knives. Or shuriken, if you want to be precise.”

“Like, at targets?” Jisu brightens up and suddenly, Ryujin doesn’t regret a thing in the world. “How fun!”

“Are you good?” Yeji asks, less enthusiastic, but interested enough. Ryujin guesses she’s calculating personal benefit and can’t blame her. Her family raised her the same.

“I’m okay, comes with practice,” Ryujin doesn’t clarify that practice meant throwing stilettos atpoorly drawn pictures of her parents, until she could aim for their eyes perfectly.

“You’ve got to show me one day,” Jisu’s eyes seem to light up at the prospect and Ryujin is weirdly fixated on each pull of the corners of her mouth. A detail this minor shouldn’t be so beguiling, but Ryujin finds herself taken by the smallest things, Jisu’s pointy nose, her round face, the bright tone of her voice. She’s so taken, the place doesn’t seem so boring anymore, after all.

“Yeah, I will,” Ryujin says, more than a little giddy. She was too young then, but in hindsight, it’s always been Jisu.

*

Fighting alongside Jisu is as good as it gets. Standing back to back, trusting each other with their lives, foreseeing each other’s every move; it’s like they’ve never separated. It’s for that reason Ryujin would call their battle today a truce — being able to stand by Jisu in combat again is a win in itself.

Yeji thinks of it as a loss. 

Clearly, she has her reasons. After all, the Avatar and her little group disappeared on the…thing, whatever that flying monstrosity is, leaving no trace behind. Now, Ryujin knows Yeji too well not to see through her act when she tries to rationalise their defeat. It’s all excuses hidden under the guise of explanations: they were unprepared, entirely unfamiliar with air bending, two benders versus one, four versus three if you count the flying thing as part of Avatar’s team — and that’s just scratching the surface of Yeji’s justification.

She’s a bit of a sore loser, but Ryujin already knows that. When Jisu beat her at Pai Sho once back at boarding school, Yeji burned the board down. They never played Pai Sho after.

After announcing she’s going to sleep early to get some rest before setting out tomorrow, Yeji retreats to her room, leaving Jisu and Ryujin to themselves for the first time since their reuniting. Jisu stands on the balcony, staring down at the city with curiosity. Ryujin would rather do anything else than look at Omashu, but joins her friend nonetheless — where Jisu goes, she tends to follow. 

“Are you sad that you’re leaving?” Jisu asks her. Ryujin doesn’t spare a second of thought before shaking her head.

“I hated it here,” she says, matter-of-factly. “Nothing ever happened here it was so—”

“Boring?” Jisu finishes. Then she laughs, the giggly kind that makes something fond swell in Ryujin’s chest. The same laugh that Jisu greeted her with the day before, with her arms around Ryujin’s neck and a kiss pressed to her temple. “Oh, Ryujin, you haven’t changed at all.”

Although Ryujin is almost certain Jisu doesn’t mean anything malicious, her first instinctive is to get defensive. “It’s Omashu, what else would you expect?”

“It’s not Omashu, it’s New Ozai,” Jisu reminds her with a grin. “Yeji renamed it. ’S got a nice ring to it.”

“Right,” Ryujin doesn’t like to speak of Yeji when it’s just the two of them, but curiosity gets the better of her. “Why are you even here?”

“In New Ozai? To pick you up, of course.”

“No, I mean—” Ryujin sighs, knowing all too well Jisu is probably teasing her. Or stalling — she’s almost as skilled in manipulating a conversation as Yeji. “I mean, why did you leave the Circus?”

“Yeji needed me.”

“You said it was your calling,” Ryujin reminds her. “The Circus.”

It’s why she held back the year or so ago, when Jisu announced she’d be leaving the capital to pursue a career in the least likely of places, at least for a nobleman’s daughter. None of that mattered to Ryujin, though, she couldn’t care less about customs or conventions. What she did care about is that she would go from seeing Jisu almost every day to, as it turned out, never. She never came to visit and Ryujin’s father became governor before she could try finding Jisu herself. 

But when Jisu told her the news, eyes brimming with mirth, balancing on the balls of her feet with excitement, Ryujin couldn’t let her addiction get in the way of being happy for her friend. So she smiled, patting Jisu’s back, and told her she was proud. 

Jisu asked if she’d miss her. Ryujin had a feeling it would be painful, but she didn’t anticipate just how much. 

“Ah, my calling,” Jisu just smiles, like nothing’s wrong. Even though Ryujin’s known her for years she still has trouble telling when she’s faking it. “I suppose Yeji called louder.”

“Let’s hope it’s over soon, then,” Ryujin bumps their arms together. “So you can get back.”

“Want to get rid of me already?” Jisu pushes back with a giggle and Ryujin can’t help the way her ears perk up like a dog’s. Jisu brings out the pathetic in her, any self-respect, any sense of pride flies out of the window. And Ryujin—

—Ryujin loves it. The control Jisu has over her. She loves being weak, no, powerless, in her mere presence. Anything can happen and it’s as terrifying as it is thrilling. Ryujin hates being bored, even at the price of being hurt. 

In the year she hasn’t seen Jisu, Ryujin thought she might be getting over it. Out of sight, out of mind. She turned nineteen without Jisu by her side and reckoned growing up would do the job for her. But with Jisu’s radiant smile and clever eyes making their return, so did her feelings. And maybe it’s blind devotion, but God, it’s addictive. She’s a rush, her Jisu, she’s all the life in the world. 

“Never,” Ryujin puts her arm around Jisu’s shoulder and suddenly, Omashu seems like the only place on earth. Something tells her it’s not about the change of name. 

Jisu looks up to her for a second, like she’s thinking the same thing. There’s tension, Ryujin could cut through it with a sai. But it passes away in less than a second, when Jisu says, “Jeno was cute, don’t you think?”

“Who?”

“The water nation boy?”

Ryujin bites her lip before retaliating with something along the lines of if anyone was cute, it was his sister. “He was okay.”

“Still hung up on Donghyuck?” Jisu asks. Still hung up — oh, she has no idea. “We’ll see him soon, according to Yeji at least.”

“Great,” Ryujin pulls away, and her hand burns where it touches Jisu’s arm. “Can’t wait.”

*

Ryujin has already turned fifteen when Yeji first invites her to spend the summer at the Royal Palace. This comes to her parents’ delight, so Ryujin couldn’t have refused even if she didn’t want to go. She does, though, because she’s grown so used to Yeji and Jisu that not seeing them on a day to day basis seems foreign. 

  
One to take the role of the host with utmost seriousness, Yeji doesn’t just offer her a guest bedroom, but a guest house — a two-storey estate just outside the palace gates. The facade is white with vermilion tiling on the gabled roofs, resembling almost every single building in the Capital City. Jisu’s family owns property further down the road, which her father stays in when general duty calls. 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” Jisu laughs when Ryujin asks if he is to be expected soon. She sounds as bright as usual, but Ryujin can tell it’s a sensitive topic. Family issues are something all three of them have in common. 

“You could stay with me if he comes,” Ryujin offers. She has about three guest bedrooms in the guest house, so there would be enough space for Jisu. Ryujin would rather they sleep together, though, like back at school. They could move one of the beds to Ryujin’s room and Jisu could stay for a sleepover. That kind of thing.

Jisu’s face lights up immediately — she’s easily pleased and Ryujin happens to love to please her. “Like back at school!” They have a bit of a one-track mind, Ryujin finds. You wouldn’t think two people with such different personalities have so much in common, but they do. 

She smiles when Jisu pulls her into a hug. She’s still awkward, not used to physical affection, but she likes it. Likes how warm it feels to be held. “That’s what I had in mind.”

“You know, you can come over any time, even now,” Ryujin suggests, careful not to overstep any lines. “It’s boring without you. Being alone, I mean, it gets boring.”

“It’s a big house. I get like that, too,” Jisu frowns, missing the point completely. Then she’s excited again and it’s nice to look at, “we should invite Yeji, too.”

Now that’s too far for Ryujin’s liking. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe she should be enthusiastic over the three of them together, sharing something of theirs. That’s the problem though, she isn’t. They already share so much of their time together with Yeji who always seems to weave herself into spaces, conversations, plans, even if she’s not physically there. 

  
Ryujin wonders if it’s wrong, that she wants moments with Jisu and her alone this much. They’re rare, maybe that’s why. Then again, one on ones with Yeji are almost non-existent and Ryujin doesn’t feel like more.

It’s bad, she thinks, Yeji goes out of her way to make her feel at home. Ryujin likes her, too, Yeji’s a bit of a force of nature, but it keeps her entertained. So, naturally, Ryujin should be a good friend, too, a better one than she is now. “Yeah, we should,” she says, her smile not exactly right. Jisu doesn’t seem to notice.

While sharing Jisu with Yeji is already a bit of a chore, it’s worse when they gang up on her. It always reminds Ryujin that she’s the odd one out, they’ve known each other forever and she’s just a new addition. And it gets to her, more than it should. 

It’s always Yeji who starts, and lately, it’s about the one thing she thinks she has on Ryujin. That being her brother, Donghyuck. With how much time they spend in the palace, meeting the crown prince was a given; in fact, Yeji introduced them the first day. Ryujin didn’t think much of Donghyuck at first, more focused on the rather obvious notion that Yeji’s relationship with him is strained. 

Both of them looked at each other like rivals. Or like they wanted to be one another. Ryujin, as an only child, thinks it might be a sibling disposition. Donghyuck is boring about it, though, so Ryujin doesn’t pay him an ounce of attention after.

Until she does. 

Yeji takes them to watch Donghyuck’s training, mostly to act as an audience when she sends snide remarks his way. It’s too easy to rile him up, Ryujin notices, Donghyuck’s got a temper on him. And Yeji knows how to use it against him perfectly. The part where it gets interesting, though, is when one of Donghyuck’s training partners lays a hand on his shoulder to calm him down and it works. He says something to Donghyuck, out of Ryujin’s earshot and the prince nods with a small, barely noticeable smile. 

Unfortunately for them, Ryujin pays attention to detail. 

She follows the two of them closer from then on. It feels a little wrong, picking up on the intimacy between them. Ryujin isn’t part of this, isn’t meant to be. Still, looking at Donghyuck, she sees herself. The fondness between them is subdued, she doubts anyone else noticed anything, but she did.

Because she understands them. Ryujin is scared of putting a name on these things, but she knows whatever it is they have. It’s comforting, somehow. 

What she doesn’t notice, busy with entertaining her sudden realisation that Donghyuck isn’t as boring as she thought, is Yeji looking right at her. She corners Ryujin after the show’s over, an accomplished look on her face.

“You have a crush on my brother?” She asks outright, victorious even. Ryujin knows where that’s coming from — Yeji hasn’t had anything on her until now. She supposes it must be some sort of achievement for her friend, who loves to know things about people. Most probably to use it against them. It’s a challenge, with how Ryujin keeps to herself and doesn’t care about Yeji’s jabs as much as the girl in question would want her to. 

Jisu perks up on the side. “You like Donghyuck?” She joins Yeji in her cornering. Ryujin can’t help but find it a little funny. 

“No,” she denies weakly, as though telling a bad lie. She’d rather they believe that than come anywhere near knowing the truth. “It was just interesting.”

Yeji looks triumphant. She must have bought it. 

“You’re so cute,” Jisu coos, tugging on Ryujin’s arm. Ryujin thinks too much of it, but it’s hard not to. To herself, she wonders if she looks at Jisu like Donghyuck looked at that boy. “Yeji, isn’t she cute?”

With that sly grin of hers, Yeji looks far from endeared. “Absolutely,” she says. “I can arrange something between you two if you want. You’d make a cute couple, don’t you think Jisu?”

Something tells Ryujin she doesn’t know about Donghyuck either. It’s a power trip for her seeing Yeji feel so smug about something she’s completely clueless about. 

Jisu pulls her into a side hug, her hands on Ryujin’s waist and, really, Donghyuck is the last thing on her mind. “Yeah, we so have to set them up!”

*

Ryujin isn’t a big fan of the ordeal that comes with impersonating the Kyoshi warriors. The clothes take hours to put on and it’s somehow oddly reminiscent of when her mother would force her into uncomfortable dresses all throughout her childhood so she could look the part of a nobleman’s daughter. 

The makeup was by far the worst, though. It was way outside of her comfort zone, even without slapping it on yet, she can tell it’s going to look grotesque on her. She doesn’t even know where to start, sat in front of a mirror with the snow-white paste in front of her. Yeji left the dressing room a while back, already finished with putting on the costume, while Jisu stayed behind to finish painting over her face.

Instead of making herself look presentable to the Earth King himself, Ryujin watches her instead, the subtle flick of Jisu’s wrist as she dips her brush in the red dye and spreads it evenly over both eyelids. It suits her, the makeup, as all things do — Jisu’s face is pretty in the soft, girly way that drives Ryujin crazy rather than jealous. 

“Do you need help?” Jisu says. She doesn’t take her eyes off of her reflection in the mirror as she paints a sleek smudge of black over her eyebrow. “You look lost.”

“That’s because I am,” Ryujin admits, wondering just how pitiful Jisu must find her. She wouldn’t be asking for Jisu’s help in any other case, but Yeji expects nothing less than impeccable from their appearance. “I don’t do that a lot.”

“Clearly,” Jisu grins, and the laugh lines crease the white paint. Satisfied with her own makeup, she gets up to move her chair just inches away from Ryujin. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional.”

“Are you now?” Ryujin teases, although she can tell Jisu looks exactly like one of the Kyoshi girls. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Jisu reassures her with feigned gloat. “I did my makeup back in the Circus, after all.”

“Oh,” Ryujin didn’t know about that. She doesn’t know a lot about Jisu’s life back there, generally speaking. She always speaks of it with great reluctance, so Ryujin doesn’t ever pressure her. “Was it anything like this?”

“Less in-your-face,” Jisu picks up a thick brush and dips it in the white. Then she leans over Ryujin’s face, so, so close and it’s hard not to pay attention to all the pretty little details. Like her lashes, long and curved, or her heart-shaped lips tinted red, or her— “But I guess it was something like that.”

“Nice,” Ryujin focuses her attention to the gentle stroke of the brush as Jisu traces it over every inch of her skin. It’s a little ticklish, but mostly pleasant. She can feel goosebumps rise up her arm with every second. “It looks pretty on you. I mean, this one.”

“Oh,” Jisu looks a little taken aback. The tips of her ears turn pink and if Ryujin didn’t know any better, she’d assume Jisu is flustered. “Thank you. Isn’t it a bit too much?”

“You look good either way,” Ryujin says and it sounds more upfront out loud than it did in her head. She hopes Jisu doesn’t read into it — there’s no reason for her to do so, after all.

“What do you prefer?” Jisu asks, followed by a request for Ryujin to close her eyes. 

  
“When your face is bare,” Ryujin reveals, wishing she could catch Jisu’s reaction. Instead, she feels the brush, a thinner one this time, come to an almost unnoticeable halt, before Jisu continues following down the crease of Ryujin’s eyelid. “You?”

“I’ve never seen you in makeup before,” Jisu reminds her. “You need to wait for me to make my choice.” 

“What do you like more for yourself, then?” Ryujin asks, trying not to sound too eager this time. Jisu is done with her eyes and cups her jaw instead.

“Open your mouth,” she answers before tracing an outline of Ryujin’s lips with the red. “I like standing out, I guess. I like whatever makes me stand out. I like people looking at me.”

Before Ryujin can reply, Yeji bursts in with a scowl on her face. “Are you two done yet?”

Startled, Jisu almost jumps back. She’s quick to regain composure, though, and turns around to give Yeji a proud smile, all too childlike and innocent. “Ryujin needed help with the makeup.”

“Of course, she did,” Yeji sighs, a little mocking, a little fond. “Get ready, we will be leaving soon. If they catch us at any point, you know what happens.”

Jisu and Ryujin are more than aware. Yeji doesn’t need to remind them; they’ll be lucky if the Earth King spares their lives, the rest of which they will spend in prison. Ryujin, ever the adrenaline junkie, can’t help but be a little excited about the awaiting challenge. She takes a look in the mirror to check if looking like a jester will be worth it — and yes, Jisu did her job perfectly, she looks like Kyoshi incarnated. 

Later that night, they find themselves in the palace bedrooms of Ba Sing Se, an aura of triumph hanging in the air. Jisu is already in her nightgown, laying in bed, while Ryujin washes the makeup off her face. 

  
“I’ve decided,” Jisu announces softly, not to wake up Yeji. “You look best right now. When you look like yourself. When you’re comfortable.”

“Ah,” Ryujin lies down on the bed next to Jisu’s with a tired sigh. “I knew I’d look stupid with the makeup.”

“No, you looked pretty,” Jisu refuses immediately. “You always do. You just look more familiar like this. Like, that’s the girl I know.”

“Good night, Jisu,” Ryujin says because she doesn’t know how to reply. She blows out her candle before Jisu can wish her the same. Her words from before are still running on Ryujin’s mind, keeping her up in the dark. 

Ryujin wonders if that’s why Jisu keeps her around; because she looks at Jisu, she looks and isn’t able to look away. She decides it’s no use dwelling on it more at one point, though — even if it’s the case, she’s happy to have things stay this way. Their little symbiosis works out well for them, and Ryujin doesn’t dare ask for more. 

*

Jisu and Yeji make it a point to leave Ryujin alone with Donghyuck. It stopped being funny at this point, but it’s not like Ryujin can say anything — she’s smart enough to choose to deal with the awkwardness that comes with the forced tête-à-têtes with the crown prince over dealing with Yeji. She doesn’t even know how Yeji would react to the truth — something tells Ryujin it wouldn’t end with just harmless teasing.

So, Ryujin uses the opportunity to talk with Donghyuck, get to know him better. After all, if they’re the same — and the longer Ryujin stays with the royal family, the more convinced she is that this is the case — she might as well befriend him. She can tell Donghyuck is reluctant at first — his first association with Ryujin is Yeji, so she can’t blame him — but they warm up to each other.

  
“So, you don’t bend,” Donghyuck says, interest piqued. “What do you do then? How do you fight?”

  
“Do I have to fight?” she raises her eyebrow.

“You have to do something,” he points out. “Yeji wouldn’t keep a non-bender around if they didn’t make themselves useful somehow. No offence.”

“None taken, I’m aware,” Ryujin snorts. “I suppose I have somewhat of good aim.” 

“Is that so?” Donghyuck clicks his tongue. “You must be quite the marksman, then?”

“Oh, that’s too much,” she dismisses insincerely, catching on that Donghyuck is trying to rile her up. She won’t give him the satisfaction. “I try, though.”

Visibly intrigued, Donghyuck gestures for her to demonstrate. Ryujin tells him to stand with his back pressed against the wall with his hands spread out and he does as instructed. 

“Stay still,” Ryujin commands, despite the voice in the back of her head reminding her she shouldn’t be ordering the crown prince himself around. “Or you’ll get hurt.”

Before Donghyuck can reply, she sends the shuriken flying. First, the stilettos, they’re quick enough to retain the element of surprise. She pins the hem of Donghyuck’s sleeve to the wall behind him and relishes the shock painted on his features. The few single-bladed knives she keeps hidden in the sleeves of her robe at all times land on either side of Donghyuck’s face, framing it with perfect precision. 

“How did I do?” Ryujin asks.

“Terrible,” Donghyuck laughs good-naturedly. Ryujin’s never had a sibling, but Donghyuck feels kind of like a brother. “I haven’t been hurt once. You’ve missed every throw.”

  
She scoffs, “try getting out, then.”

“Come on, let me out,” Donghyuck whines. “Royal order.”

Ryujin sticks her tongue out at him, but takes pity on him in the end. It’s fun, spending time with Donghyuck. She’s always worried Jisu likes Yeji over her — to her mind, it’s almost a given — so becoming Donghyuck’s favourite out of the three of them is her little revenge. But it doesn’t end here; Ryujin gets a friend out of it, the kind she’s unafraid to act herself around.

They know, about each other, that is. It’s never been stated explicitly, but there’s been allusions, hints thrown around, seemingly casual but in reality, not so much. Ryujin had to time it perfectly, any mention of Minhyung that had something more to it. Every question that pried beneath the socially acceptable that was on the tip of the tongue was swallowed back before it was suitable. She couldn’t afford to scare Donghyuck away.

And Donghyuck. Donghyuck was the same.

  
So they communicate like that, with half-truths and unfinished trains of thought and with every day Ryujin grows more confident about what used to be a heavily subjective assumption. It becomes even clearer when she spends time with the both of them, Minhyung and Donghyuck. Although they never make her feel unwelcome, it’s obvious that they’re different. It’s so plain to see that it comes as a shock to her that no one else seems to notice.

“How did you know?” She asks Donghyuck one afternoon after practice. Ryujin is lying on the edge of the fountain in the palace courtyard, unladylike and lacking grace — Donghyuck doesn’t seem to mind. 

“What?”

“That it’s him,” Ryujin clarifies.

  
“Because it was no one else,” Donghyuck reveals the sun reflecting from the metal hair tie clipping his hair into a high ponytail. It’s messier than in the morning; with loose hair sticking out in each direction, Donghyuck looks unkempt for royal standards. “If it works it works, and it never works with anyone else but him.”

“Ah,” she nods. It helps, to an extent. 

She tries to rake her mind to figure out if there’s anyone that has ever made her feel half the way Jisu does. There was Heejin, a girl from one of the noble families her family would force her to socialise with. Her voice was deep and they would sneak out together when their parents weren’t watching. And Nako, another former friend, who was short and it was easy to tuck her head under Ryujin’s chin when they would hug.

It’s little things that have so much meaning to them now that Ryujin’s more aware. In hindsight it all adds up. 

For a second, she lets herself be swayed by the constant persuasions from both Yeji and Jisu who have been insisting she has feelings for Donghyuck. It could be true for all she knows — what if the comfortable understanding they share could have more to it? It’s not exhilarating, in the way it is with Jisu, but maybe it doesn’t have to be.

She takes a careful look at Donghyuck. She tries to imagine—

No, that’s not it. It’s a quick, but definite conclusion. 

As Ryujin mulls over all the confusing feelings and whatnots, she spots Jisu and Yeji walking side by side behind the pillars. Jisu takes notice of her, too, and waves at her behind Yeji’s back with a small smile. It’s not teasing, the way Ryujin has grown used to. Ryujin smiles back and watches Jisu turn her attention back to Yeji with a giggle that echoes across the courtyard and rings in Ryujin’s ears even when her friends are already gone.

“And you?” Donghyuck nudges Ryujin. “Why her?”

“No one even comes close,” Ryujin tells him. They’re different, her and Donghyuck, because his feelings for Minhyung are undoubtedly reciprocated. Ryujin’s aren’t, and it hurts more than she expected, but it’s the grave she’s dug for herself. And she’s not leaving any time soon. “Nobody compares.”

*

It’s Yeji who comes up with the idea of a vacation, or so she says. Maybe a month after Donghyuck’s return, with everything seemingly back to normal, she decides they deserve a few days of break. They’re going to need them; with the gearing up for the Day of Black Sun they will have going on soon, it’s best to recharge. 

Ember Island is almost generic of a destination, but Ryujin isn’t in the position to speak against it. She learns from Donghyuck that it’s been their go-to summer spot with their family before his father’s coronation. They have a holiday house there, and Donghyuck almost drowned on the beach once. He speaks of it almost sentimentally, and Ryujin can tell it means more to them than they let on.

It’s not terrible, either, Ryujin decides when they arrive. As not terrible as a beach can get, at least, she’s not a fan of those. But it’s not good either. The island is as boring as it is uncomfortable, Ryujin hides under the meek shade of the parasol that does nothing to protect her from the scorching sun. She doesn’t like to swim, especially not with the crowd occupying the shoreline, so she lies on the towel aimlessly.

The only person who looks just as gloom as she does is Donghyuck, who sits beside her with his arms crossed and lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Don’t you like it here?” Ryujin asks, and Donghyuck shakes his head petulantly.

“My father forced this,” Donghyuck tells her. She’s already known about the meetings Ozai is currently holding with his advisers back at the Palace during their absence. “He wanted me out.”

“He wanted both of you out,” Ryujin gestures to Yeji, who looks very busy terrorising children. Maybe she doesn’t like it here too much, either. “Are you sure it’s not because Minhyung had to stay back—”

“It’s not about him,” Donghyuck huffs and sounds as unconvincing as it gets. “It’s not, stop.”

“Sure, yeah, just your good old daddy issues,” Ryujin grins. Riling Donghyuck up is funny sometimes, she kind of understands why Yeji made a hobby out of it. 

The only one who’s been enjoying herself all day is Jisu, who glows in the sun as much as she does in the attention of others. Ryujin has lost count of just how many boys approached Jisu, failing to act inconspicuous, each more banal and boring than the previous. 

“You’re glaring,” Donghyuck takes his revenge on her when some guy approaches Jisu with another dirty shell she can add to the collection. Jisu is nineteen, for God’s sake, this barely works on girls much younger. 

“Do you ever get jealous?” Ryujin asks him, hoping to distract Donghyuck from the pursuit of mockery with the opportunity to act on his brother instincts. “Of Minhyung.”

“Used to,” Donghyuck hums. “But that was before…everything, you know. Wanted to be his favourite, and then it became kind of clear I was.”

“What did you do?” She envies him a lot, the certainty with which he speaks about his relationship. “When you were.”

“I’m Donghyuck,” Donghyuck shrugs and in hindsight, it is quite obvious. “I sulked and threw tantrums until he paid attention to me again.”

That isn’t very helpful, because that’s exactly what Ryujin has been doing anyways. And she continues to do so even in the evening, when she finds herself at some general kid’s party Jisu got invited to. Ryujin keeps an eye out on her from a distance, feeling well out of her comfort zone. Yeji left her alone a while ago and Donghyuck chose not to come in the first place. 

She should have done the same, but where Jisu goes, Ryujin follows. The saying never gets old. 

Even Jisu begins to look uncomfortable with the advances at this point, and Ryujin catches her sneaking past two grown men when they’re too busy arguing over who saw her first to notice.

I did, Ryujin thinks. “Are you okay?” Ryujin asks when Jisu joins her. 

“Yeah, of course,” Jisu’s chirpy tone sounds strained. “Can we, uh, go outside? Catch some air?”

Naturally, Ryujin nods, lacing her fingers with Jisu’s and pushing past to the terrace. Something tells her Jisu needs the comfort even now when they’re away from everyone else, so she doesn’t let go of her hand. 

“Did they make you uncomfortable?” Ryujin asks, rubbing the back of Jisu’s hand with her thumb. “I can go back there and stick a sai up their necks or—”

“No, it’s—it’s Yeji, she…” Jisu frowns. So that’s what it’s about, Ryujin should have guessed. “She called me an, uh, attention whore.”

“What?” Ryujin blurts out. Sure, Yeji might have spells of cruelty, but she was never crude, not to Jisu at least. “When did she say that?”

“A while ago, I—” Jisu sighs, looking ashamed. “She apologised after, but I was thinking about it.”

“Jisu,” Ryujin puts aside the growing resentment for Yeji to comfort her. She pulls Jisu into a hug, arms tight around her waist for reassurance. “You know that’s not true, you’re—”

“No, but it kind of is, though,” Jisu pulls away to argue. “I like it. I like people looking at me, leading them on. I need attention or else I feel terrible about myself.”

“So what?” Ryujin counters. “So what, you like attention. I like attention, too.”

“No, you don’t,” Jisu scoffs.

“I do, from people I care about,” _from you_ , “it’s nothing bad. And I know for a fact Yeji does, too, even more so than you and me combined.”

“Yeji’s different,” Jisu shakes her head, “she doesn’t need validation. She is validation, all she needs is to convince people to act on it.”

“Yeji’s a special case, to begin with,” Ryujin snorts. “But it doesn’t change that you’re not in the wrong. You want attention and it’s okay because you deserve it. It would be pitiful if you didn’t, but you do.”

“Do I?” Jisu asks. “I’m not special, I’ve never been.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s always been that way,” she explains. “You know, back at home, I have six sisters. Twins, so we’re identical. We look the same, we speak the same, hell, even our own parents couldn’t tell us apart sometimes. It’s like I’m not my own person.”

“You are,” Ryujin comes off as exasperated and she might as well be. “There’s no one like you.” 

“Yes, there is, uh, did you miss the part about—”

“To me,” Ryujin interrupts, “there’s no one like you to me.” She ignores the voice in her head reminding her it’s not enough, her attention alone is never going to be enough for Jisu, “I don’t care about your sisters, fuck your family. You’re different. Special.”

“I’ll take you home one day, see if you can tell me apart in a lineup,” Jisu jokes half-heartedly in response, but she seems better. “Thank you. You always know what to say.”

“I mean it,” Ryujin squeezes her hand. “Want to go back home?”

“Yeah,” Jisu nods but doesn’t pull her hand away. She doesn’t for the entire way home. Ryujin certainly doesn’t bother pointing it out. 

*

The first night after Donghyuck is exiled, Ryujin cries. 

She does it when nobody can hear her, because it’s dangerous to cry over a dishonoured prince in the current climate. Because to people, that’s all he is now. It’s crazy how quick everyone was to denounce him, whether or not to keep up appearances. Just like that, the only person who’s ever understood her, her best friend slipped away from her. She didn’t even get to say goodbye, let Donghyuck know she was on his side, just like he’d always been on hers. 

The day after, she finds Minhyung, because if anyone can understand what she’s going through it’s him. Minhyung is in his room, cross-legged on the floor with incense burning in front of him and he doesn’t spare her a glance when she enters. 

“Did you see him before he left?” He asks her, not taking his eyes off the swirling smoke. 

“No, no, I haven’t,” Ryujin says.

  
“Me neither, they wouldn’t let me in,” Minhyung replies. “Or him. I don’t know.”

“He’s going to come back at one point,” she doesn’t know how to comfort Minhyung when he looks like he’d break under the most gentle touch. “His father will cave in at one point, he has to.” She’s not sure if she believes it herself, but she doesn’t have anything better to say.

Minhyung chooses not to say anything instead. Maybe it’s for the better.

“Smells like him,” he tells her after a while, pointing at the burning incense. It sparks up the memory of days spent with them in Donghyuck’s study. “Doesn’t it?” 

“It does, yes,” Ryujin leaves soon after.

Honestly, there’s some sort of irrational guilt that that comes with this debacle. Ryujin often spends her nights thinking of just how unfair it is that it’s Donghyuck who had to leave. It’s not like he ever did anything to deserve it — she dare not voice the rather controversial opinion out loud, but he was right to speak up. Lack of respect isn’t justification for punishment this severe. 

Watching Minhyung fall apart more with every day only fuels the nagging thought that she should be the one in Donghyuck’s place. At least she wouldn’t be leaving anyone behind; she doesn’t imagine ever meaning as much to anyone as Donghyuck did to Minhyung, to her. 

Guilt is all that resonates in her bones when Yeji decides to train with Minhyung now that her brother left. Ryujin doesn’t know who she’s trying to prove anything to, without Donghyuck around to witness another one of her victories over him. Maybe it’s herself; Ryujin imagines his exile isn’t a win enough. It was too easy, entirely coincidental, out of Yeji’s control.

And God knows Yeji likes her things under control.

She does improve greatly, even without the tangible sibling rivalry to serve as a driving force. Ryujin watches with amazement as Yeji’s fire turns blue — with enough practice she’s likely to completely master lightning generation soon. It’s a skill Ryujin’s only heard of, never bearing witness to its existence in person, but it’s no surprise that Yeji took it upon herself to learn it. 

Jisu, who’s sitting beside her, taps on her hand at one point. Her face is oddly sullen. “Can we talk?”

Ryujin quickly directs all her attention from Yeji to her, “sure, what’s wrong?”

“Somewhere else,” Jisu gets up and Ryujin follows her out. She doesn’t feel too guilty about leaving Yeji behind; she’s too preoccupied with training to notice them leave, anyways. 

Ryujin leads the way. She takes Jisu to a place Donghyuck showed her once, one that he and Minhyung would go to in search of peace and privacy. It’s a tower overlooking the palace gardens, abandoned when unnecessary for military purposes. They sit on the window sill, and Ryujin notices Jisu’s legs don’t quite reach the ground. 

“So?” She asks, knowing Jisu needs some coaxing to talk about anything serious.

“I was thinking,” Jisu cracks the knuckles of her fingers, “because of, like, him leaving. And I realised I don’t know where I’m going. With everything.”

“Like the future?” 

“Yeah,” Jisu clarifies. “Like, I hate not having a purpose. Yeji is going to go ahead and do big things, and I’m going to stay here watching her.”

“You don’t have to,” Ryujin tells her. “You could leave.”

  
“And come back home? I’d rather get exiled, thank you very much,” Jisu must have noticed the sour expression on Ryujin’s face when she says it. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ryujin can’t ever stay upset with her anyways. They shouldn't even be mentioning Donghyuck anymore, taboo stays taboo. “You don’t have to be your father’s daughter or Yeji’s friend, you can live for yourself.”

“What do I have to offer? I’m not even a bender,” Jisu shrugs, like Ryujin’s stupid for even suggesting anything. 

“And?” Ryujin shrugs back. “You can stop benders. You’re more powerful than Yeji will ever be.”

“That’s not true—”

“It is, though,” she argues. “You tap her a couple times on the shoulder and she’s powerless.”

“It’s called chi-blocking,” Jisu snorts. “And it’s just for a few minutes.”

“A lot can happen in a few minutes,” Ryujin tells her. “It’s easy to stab people, you know.”

“Don’t stab Yeji,” Jisu laughs, falling into her side and Ryujin can swear she felt a current pass through her body. It burns where they’re touching; she doesn’t know why Jisu worries about not having powers of her own when she can bend electricity perfectly fine. 

“No promises,” Ryujin slides out the sai from her sleeve and spins it in her hand like an ink brush. “You can do a lot of things, Jisu.”

“You keep saying these things and I might actually end up believing that,” Jisu says.

_That’s the point,_ Ryujin thinks.

*

The day after Donghyuck flees the Fire Nation, Ryujin finds herself in the palace with Yeji and Jisu. Yeji is livid — she’d been preparing for the Day of Black Sun for months, ever since they heard of the invasion plans back in Ba Sing Se. And while the Avatar’s troops surrendered, Yeji’s uncle escaped prison and Donghyuck turned his back on the Fire Nation. 

She’s pacing the room back and forth, the strands of hair framing her face bouncing with every step. Ryujin feels almost uncomfortable witnessing Yeji lose her composure, like a firecracker about to burst at any moment. Jisu is uncharacteristically silent, as though scared of saying anything that might anger Yeji and maybe that’s for the best. 

“He’s following the Avatar,” Yeji mutters, mostly to herself, but they still listen. The floorboards creak with every angry stomp. “So I have to follow the two of them. I have to—I have to find the Avatar and he’ll be there, too.”

“Two birds with one stone,” Ryujin remarks, echoing Yeji’s favourite saying. “If what Donghyuck told your father is true, that’s exactly what you need to do.”

“They were headed north-east,” Yeji bends over the vanity, resting her weight on her palms. “There’s only so many places the Avatar can go outside the Fire Nation without being caught.”

“The colonies?” Jisu suggests, the notion not entirely out of place. After all, the Avatar spent more than a few months travelling the Earth Kingdom before her defeat in Ba Sing Se. Yuna would know where to hide. 

Yeji thinks different. “It’s too dangerous now. Too risky. He needs to go somewhere completely abandoned.”

Then, a realisation flashes across her face. She’s quick to gather the Dai Li and gives them an impromptu but nonetheless decent briefing — it’s always a bit of a sickeningly impressive sight, seeing Yeji at her strongest and most unrelenting. She has a way with words, too, any short speech is rhetorically immaculate.

“We’re going to follow him to the Western Air Temple,” she announces. “Get the airships ready.”

“Are we coming, too?” Jisu asks. 

“No,” Yeji scowls. “That’s between me and my brother.”

For once, she doesn’t look irate; Yeji looks betrayed, if anything, hurt. It reminds Ryujin of just how much she misses Donghyuck herself. She’s still proud of him, though. She’s proud that he’s doing something she would never have the courage to do for herself — defy. And yet, her pain seems unparalleled to Yeji’s, no matter how much layers of faux anger she tries to blanket it under. 

She sets out soon after. Ryujin watches her leave with Jisu. 

The only person who seems more heartbroken than Yeji that day is Minhyung. Ryujin and Jisu are on their way out of the palace when they pass by him in the courtyard. He looks like he hasn’t slept, eyes hollow and lost. It’s different than the last time Donghyuck had to leave — then Minhyung seemed broken, like someone stabbed him repeatedly in the chest. Now, he just looks empty and so, so tired. Ryujin wants to stop him, talk to him, but decides against it — with Donghyuck once again deemed persona non grata, they can’t draw too much attention to their grief. 

She doesn’t think Jisu even noticed until she mentions it herself back at Ryujin’s house. Her bedroom window faces the palace and Jisu leans out of it with a sigh. Ryujin watches her from the chaise longue, lost in the way Jisu’s fingers tap against the sill with delicate precision. 

“I think he knew,” Jisu says finally. There’s a heaviness to her voice that Ryujin hasn’t heard before. “That Donghyuck was leaving.”

Of course, he did — Ryujin would bet her money that Minhyung was the one who helped Donghyuck escape. Still, she plays dumb. “Who, the Fire Lord?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice,” Jisu shakes her head. “Minhyung looked like a ghost. He must have known.”

“Why didn’t he tell the guards then?”

“We both know why,” Jisu smiles sitting at the edge of the seat beside Ryujin. She’s still looking outside. “I see things, too, you know?”

She should have known, that’s the thing; Jisu is smarter than she lets on, that’s what makes her so dangerous. Ryujin is the foolish one for having assumed otherwise. She wonders just how much Jisu really knows, how much she’s picked up on. If she knows about the weight of her hand on Ryujin’s shoulder, the burn of Ryujin’s eyes on the back of her head when no one’s looking. 

“Don’t tell Yeji,” Ryujin just says, because there’s no saving her or Donghyuck, so she might as well try saving Minhyung. “I don’t think she knows — please.”

Jisu turns to her with a pained frown. “Is that what you think of me?” She seethes. “That I’d tell on him?”

“I don’t know,” Ryujin says. She doesn’t ever know what’s really going on in Jisu’s pretty head and she’s not making it any easier. “I don’t know.”

“I’ve known for a few years, now,” Jisu reveals. “I’m surprised Yeji didn’t catch on, really. But I suppose she doesn’t see things our way.”

“Our way?” Ryujin echoes. “What’s our way?”

Jisu smiles. She lies down beside Ryujin, laying her head on the girl’s shoulder. She traces her thumb down Ryujin’s arm until she reaches her hand. Jisu intertwines their fingers together and lets out a breath.

She’s confident — too confident. As though Yeji’s leaving makes anything they’re doing less dangerous. Her presence is no longer looming over them, watching their every step and Jisu seems to take full advantage of the break. Ryujin might as well let her. 

“I’ll tell you someday,” She mumbles, and Ryujin can feel Jisu’s breath on her skin. She wants to ask what Jisu means, because it sounded so hopeful, so much like there was something more to it. 

“Is that why you made fun of me and Donghyuck?” She asks instead. “So that Yeji didn’t know?”

“That,” Jisu says. “And it was funny. You and Donghyuck is so absurd to me.” 

They lie like this, neither of them daring enough to move closer or strong enough to move away. It’s rare to see Jisu so calm and Ryujin decides she likes her just as much quiet as she does lively. Jisu’s hair is untied and Ryujin plays with the strands tickling on her collarbone. 

“If I wanted to run away,” Jisu says suddenly, voice hushed like someone might be eavesdropping. Knowing the royalty, there might as well be. “Would you help me leave?”

“Of course,” Ryujin answers immediately. She’d go to hell and back if Jisu asked her. Or worse, a Fire Nation prison. Anything for Jisu. “Do you want to?”

“I don’t know,” Jisu whispers. “Would you? Stand up to her?”

The image of Yeji’s eyes, cold, ruthless, vengeful, flashes in Ryujin’s mind. It’s so vivid, like Yeji was right there in front of her, and shivers run down the spine at the memory. Then she looks into Jisu’s, dark but warm, with golden embers flickering inside them. “Of course,” she repeats.

“Why?” Jisu asks. “Do you not fear her?”

“I do,” Ryujin tells her, “but I love you more than I fear her.” 

She wonders if she took it a step too far, it’s a thin line they’re walking on, after all. But Jisu nods, satisfied with the only confirmation she needed. 

“Would you?” Ryujin asks. “Choose me over her?”

Jisu holds her breath. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can. I’m sor—”

“No, don’t be,” Ryujin shushes her, patting the back of her head. She knows just how much Yeji can get to someone’s head. “It’s on her, not you.”

“I want to,” Jisu says, finally. “I want to, so much. I just don’t know if I can.”

*

She can, they later find out.

*

It’s a little weird without Yeji. 

Now, Ryujin is smart enough to realise that somewhere along the way, she did love her. Underneath all the fear, the mind games, Yeji was her friend. Their friend, she corrects, after all, Jisu did a lot of growing up with Yeji, more than Ryujin. They miss her, each in their own way; Jisu misses the stability of her leadership, Ryujin misses the thrill of her twisted ways. 

They plan on visiting her after some time — not now, though, not when the wounds are still fresh. All three of them need time to process why they fell apart. 

But mostly, it’s good. It’s healing, the breath of fresh air they’ve been given. The freedom to follow their path without Yeji’s ghost following after them, because it always did, at the end of the day. 

Freedom is strange and somewhat scary. Ryujin has no idea what will happen to them or where they’re even standing in their relationship. It’s hard to figure out where you’re supposed to be headed with the starting point unclear, but they’re just winging it for now. And it’s not just the two of them that Ryujin worries about. Something tightens in her chest whenever she imagines what other people might say about them or how they could act, so she tries not to think about it. 

Ryujin’s way of self-comforting relies on reminding herself that others have it worse. Take Donghyuck, who has to reconcile his feelings with his duties as the new Fire Lord. She doesn’t even know if that’s possible, but she has hope that they’ll make it work, him and Minhyung. Donghyuck is stubborn enough, resilient to the core — and Ryujin doesn’t think he’d want to let go of Minhyung yet again. 

Relishing in the shade of the willow she’s sat under, Ryujin tries not to lose herself in thought again. Jisu proves to be the ideal distraction, she swims back and forth in the lake with the grace of a waterbender; she could easily be confused for one. She stays close to the shore, so Ryujin can watch her, but far enough for the water depth to allow her to dive. 

It’s impossible to look away; Ryujin follows each dip, watches Jisu become one with water. She sinks and resurfaces so rhythmically that Ryujin’s heartbeat naturally adjusts to the pace. Ryujin is still in disbelief of how easily amused she is by anything Jisu does, no matter how small and plain. It’s never boring, there’s always something to look at, admire. It’s exhilarating, watching her, even more so than the peril of Yeji’s friendship. 

“Don’t you want to join?” Jisu calls out to her, but Ryujin shakes her head. 

“I’m good just watching,” she says, and a pretty smile blooms on Jisu’s face. She gets out of the water slowly, just to make a show out of it — she doesn’t have to, Ryujin’s going to stare at her anyways, and sits down beside her in the shade. 

“So, you’re just going to sit here and do nothing,” Jisu pokes Ryujin’s side before melting into it, head resting above her collarbones. “Aren’t you bored?”

Ryujin clicks her tongue, “you’re quite entertaining, thank you very much.”

“You have low standards,” Jisu tells her and stands up, much to Ryujin’s chagrin. “I’m a professional circus freak. I can put on a real show.”

“Go ahead, what’s stopping you?” Ryujin smiles encouragingly. 

While she’s seen Jisu do acrobatics before, in combat and for the fun of it, Ryujin’s has never been witness to Jisu doing it professionally. Seeing her in the element is an enticing prospect, so Ryujin leans back to watch. 

It starts with the usual, Jisu stands on her hands leveraging her legs to the front at a right angle, then she splits them mid-air and walks towards Ryujin, who can feel the anticipation rising. Before she can come close enough to invade Ryujin’s personal space (it wouldn’t be much of an intrusion with how welcome it would be), Jisu flips backwards onto her feet, only to jump up again grasping onto the tree branch. She must be insanely strong, Ryujin realises when Jisu pulls herself up the tree without as much as a drop of sweat, keeping herself steady on the branch on one foot. 

“I would walk the tightrope,” Jisu tells her from above. She demonstrates, by walking towards the tree trunk with outstretched hands to maintain balance. “Do flips in the air.”

“Be careful,” Ryujin reminds her noncommittally. They never restrict each other in their pursuit of a rush, a thrill, no matter how dangerous. Still, she supposes it’s a nice thing to say.

“I’m a professional,” Jisu scoffs. To Ryujin’s initial horror and later amazement, she leaps from one branch onto another, higher in the air. She holds on with her hands, swinging back and forth and lets go only to jump to another of the willow’s boughs, which is already shaking under her ministrations, and she’s closer to Ryujin this time. 

She hooks her legs over the branch and lowers her head down to face Ryujin eye-level. Her untied hair falls towards the ground in waves and Ryujin decides Jisu is as pretty upside-down as she is in normal circumstances. 

“Hi,” Jisu greets her, satisfied with the show she put on. Or the attention Ryujin showered her with throughout. God, Ryujin always wanted this — the two of them away from the rest of the world, free to do anything they wanted. 

She cups Jisu’s face in her hands, knowing there’s no one to stop her. “Hi.”

They kiss then, for the first time. It’s short but long overdue and Ryujin loses herself. She tells Jisu to come down and do it properly, and she doesn’t have to be asked twice. Ryujin gets to hold her, really pull her close like she’s wanted for years now, do things their way finally. 

With everything she’s ever dreamed of in her arms, Ryujin thinks about the future. Now that she has it all, what could be the next step, where do they go from here? In the upcoming days, both her and Jisu decided its high time they visit Yeji, see how she’s doing. Tell her how they’re doing, Ryujin hopes, because she has faith Yeji will ultimately be happy for them. 

But next? They have the whole world in the palm of their hands, they can go anywhere, do anything — long as they’re together. 

“You’re good,” Ryujin says later, when the sun is setting already and she lies her head in Jisu’s lap. Jisu runs her fingers through her hair, tugs on its ends. “You should go back.”

“To the circus?” Jisu raises her eyebrows with a hum. Although her face is blank, Ryujin notices her eyes light up, and she wants to see it over and over again. “What about you?”

“I can throw knives at a target, I’d do great at Circus,” Ryujin reasons, but she can tell Jisu is unconvinced.

“Is that something you want, though?” Jisu asks. She’s worried about Ryujin — she’s worried and Ryujin’s heart soars, because that means she cares. It’s not something she’ll ever get used to.

“It would be nice to try,” Jisu plays with her hair and Ryujin plays with her fingers playing with her hair. “If I don’t like it, I’ll just watch you. I make for a good audience.”

“That you do,” Jisu laughs, and it’s sweet but genuine. How can someone so sweet be so genuine about it, Ryujin wonders? “Always watching me. So blatant about it, too.”

“Oh, shut up,” it’s true.

“No, I like it. I like you when you watch me,” Jisu tells her. “Are you sure, though? That’s what you want to do?”

She is; Ryujin has never been more sure of anything in her life. And—and even if she wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter anyway, because where Jisu goes, Ryujin follows. The rest will figure itself out one way or another.

“I’m sure,” she kisses Jisu again and there’s no one but them in the world, but it’s enough to keep her entertained. It always has.

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy omg...thx for reading...also yeah sequel is coming soon for my markhyuckers
> 
> [buy me a ko-fi](http://ko-fi.com/joonswig) // here's my recently reactivated [twitter](https://twitter.com/neotshy) if u feel like u need some. nct itzy taylor swift content in ur life


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